Chapter 20
twenty
HENRY
Christmas Day arrived with the excitement of small children and the tiredness of adults awoken too early. I’d expected the clients to have taken the morning at a much more restrained pace, and I was pleasantly surprised by the sheer chaos that surrounded me.
But the real difference was Amanda. Everything about her had become more relaxed.
The easy way she encouraged the children at breakfast, and the quiet confidence with which she corralled everyone through their perfect Christmas Day.
It was like her sharp edges had rounded off just a touch.
Not enough that she wasn’t still the same brisk, efficient woman, but enough that she wasn’t terrifying to approach.
Pru leant against the wall beside me and nudged me with an elbow. ‘I don’t know what you did to her, but whatever it was, keep it up.’
‘Who said I did anything?’
She levelled me with a stare. ‘The manor walls might be thick, but they’re not soundproof.’
Fuck.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s alright, Henry, we all do it.’
Well, what do you say to that? Pru had to be nearing retirement, so good for her. I had zero interest in imagining her tied up in ribbons and dripped with candle wax.
I turned my thoughts back to Amanda, who I could see in the vast sitting room by one of the trees.
She slipped the little Petersen boy a second candy cane before tapping a finger against her lips when he widened his eyes.
Then she made her way to the coffee machine, pouring tall drinks in glasses, and topping them off with a splash of Harris whisky.
Nothing but the finest pick me up for the flagging adults.
I made my way down to her and relished in the naughty smile she gave.
‘Winter warmer?’ she asked. I gladly accepted the fire-laden coffee.
‘You’re supposed to be the sensible one,’ I said as I traced her spine with my spare hand, letting my fingertips follow the bumps upwards before skirting back down. The contact was light, but she leaned into my touch.
‘It’s Christmas, I’m allowed to be naughty on one day a year.’
‘Only one?’
She didn’t turn toward me, but I saw a smile tug the corner of her lips.
‘I suppose I could allow for bank holidays, too.’
Those damned lips beckoned, and I couldn’t resist stealing the briefest kiss when she looked up at me. A tiny whisper of a kiss, just enough to tide me over until I could steal her away from everyone.
Later, with the family occupied by presents and charades, we slipped into the kitchen to have a mini-celebration with the rest of the staff, both hired in and the regulars like Pru and I.
An impressive spread covered the kitchen island; the chef had made a bit extra of everything he’d served at the family’s meal and laid it out for us.
Prawn cocktail, with the fattest, pinkest prawns I’d seen.
Crab legs and lobster tail. Then there was the traditional feast, turkey surrounded by pigs in blankets and crispy roast potatoes.
Caramelised carrots and the inevitable bowl of Brussels sprouts.
Cheeses of just about every variety and enough crackers to rebuild Hadrian’s wall.
Pru poured mulled wine with very little regard for the fact that we were still at work.
The tinny speaker in the corner filled the kitchen with the cheesiest of Christmas tunes.
Lisa from next door slipped in not long after we filled our plates.
Her shoulders curled inwards as if trying to make herself smaller than her willowy frame allowed.
Her blonde hair was loosely braided on one shoulder, and she quietly stood in one corner, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, as if hoping to observe without being observed.
Amanda drifted to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder, both of them contemplating a platter of the bacon-wrapped sausages.
Lisa relaxed at Amanda’s quiet proximity, just enough that her fingers emerged and wrapped around a steaming mug of mulled wine.
A small shift, but one that brought warmth to my chest. I liked Lisa, but she was very much wrapped in layers of armour.
A bit like Amanda had been. But her armour wasn’t spiked, it was camouflage, shrinking herself back from the world to her aunt and her bees.
But Amanda had seen through her armour, and I found myself admiring her for it.
By late afternoon, the living room had erupted into a lively, nd very boozy party.
The children were out with Pru, feeding Merv his Christmas dinner and brushing him within an inch of his life.
Rita was still gushing over a most ridiculously large pom-pommed hat that hat daughter had bought at the market.
It bobbed back and forth as she danced with her daughters-in-law to Wizard.
And in the middle of it all, Amanda laughed as Rita pulled her into their giggling ring and demanded she dance with them.
Staring was bad form, but I couldn’t help myself. She was like the sweetest flower, drawing me like a pollinating bee.
By the time the Petersens settled into post-party drowsiness, Amanda and I slipped to one of the snugs and collapsed onto the sofa in front of the fire I’d built. She curled her legs beneath her and rested her head against the back of the couch, letting out a happy sigh.
‘I don’t remember the last time I was this tired.’
I reached out, pulled her feet into my lap, and rubbed my thumbs into their socked arches.
‘Oh,’ she groaned, her head tipping back and her eyes closing as she relaxed, her limbs turning as limp as overcooked pasta.
She glanced over at me, her expression soft and uncertain in the firelight. ‘Every way you touch me feels so good.’
‘Does that scare you?’
‘A little.’
The honesty of it surprised me.
We talked for a while, about our families and Christmasses past. The good and the bad.
I told her about how my dad refused to let anyone win a board game, and my mum burnt the Yorkshire puddings every year like clockwork.
She told me about the noise and the fighting, and how she and her sister had hidden in their rooms when the fighting was at its worst, under their blankets and sharing the chocolate oranges from their stockings.
And somewhere between funny confessions and heavier truths, she pulled her feet from mine and leaned against my chest, staring into the flickering flames. When she finally lifted her eyes again, they were heavy-lidded.
’I’m exhausted, but if you wanted… we could, you know…’
Her cheeks coloured, a soft flush pinking them.
‘We could have a quickie.’
The offer was sweet and shy and wildly tempting, and I desperately wanted to say yes.
To take her to bed and lose myself in her.
But when I looked at her, I saw the sleepiness in her eyes and the vulnerability behind her bravado.
The trust that she was beginning to offer me.
Capturing her lips, I kissed her with a mixture of heat and restraint.
‘No,’ I whispered against her lips. ‘When I fuck you for the first time… I don’t want it quick.’
Her pupils blew wide.
‘I want to savour every second of you. Every sound you make. Every look. Every tremble. I want you open and wanting, and with nowhere in the world you’d rather be. So no. No quickie.’
She didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Finally, in a barely audible whisper, she said, ‘Okay.’
Much later, when the fire had burned to embers and the house was silent, she shifted against my shoulder. ’What are your plans after the Petersens leave?’
‘I’ll go home,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Me, too.’
‘Will you go see your family?’
‘It’s nothing but fighting. Every year. It’s easier not to.’
I swept my fingers along her jaw, guiding her face back to mine.
‘Come spend Betwixtmas with my family and me.’
‘Henry, not only do I not know them. But they won’t want the stranger they may or may not have seen in her underpants crashing their party.’
‘You haven’t met them,’ I said with a slow smile. ‘They’d absolutely love a stranger to moon over. Mum will have you eating burnt Yorkshire puddings before you can say Merry Christmas.’
She smiled. Not a yes, but not a no either.
‘Just think about it, you don’t have to decide now.’ I gave her another slow kiss, relishing in the warmth of her lips.’
We stayed like that until the fire all but ran it’s course, cuddled up on the couch, with her eyes drooping.
Her breath settled into a sleepy rhythm against my chest. I should have carried her upstairs, but I relished her body pressing against me.
I traced my fingers through her dark hair, twisting the strands around my fingers, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself imagine a future I hadn’t dared want before.
A future with Amanda.
A future where she didn’t leave.